


Campbell Olson Holloway Benson

by finch (afinch)



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Alternate Reality, Gen, Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:19:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afinch/pseuds/finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1972. The firm is Campbell Olson Holloway Benson. History has changed, but they're still the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Campbell Olson Holloway Benson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Philipa_Moss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philipa_Moss/gifts).



"Do you have the Lucky Strike briefs?" 

"In the blue folder, table. To your right," Peggy said. She barely looked up from her desk, frowning over another account. 

"I'm going to need you in the meeting," Joan practically sing-songed, and Peggy looked up for the first time. 

"Yes, I'll be there in a minute."

It was hard for Peggy not to roll her eyes. She liked Joan and all, but it annoyed her that Joan had more authority over her, when she worked harder at things - and it was both their names on the firm, wasn't it? That first bit wasn't really true; Peggy had a deep-seated loathing of Joan. 

Despite that, Peggy enjoyed her work at Campbell Olson Holloway Benson more than she had thought she would. It was 1972, and the world was on the brink of changing. It had already changed so much in the past three decades.

Sometimes she wondered what life would have been like if the war had gone just a little differently. Would women have made so many gains in the workplace if there had been a more stable male workforce returning from the war? 

Peggy didn't normally concern herself with such questions, but lately she'd been finding herself looking at children more often, smiling at them, and wondering if she'd have any of her own. Sure, her sister had plenty of children (always another one every Christmas, it seemed), but Peggy hadn't had any of her own. There had been the scare with Campbell a decade ago, but she had that taken care of (carefully, as the laws against such things were incredibly strict, and not liable to change anytime soon. Sure, women could join the workforce in greater and greater numbers, but their first duty was to stabilize the population.)

Campbell strode by her office just as she was leaving to meet Joan. 

"Can you sit in on Benson's meeting with Chevy?" he asked. His mouth twitched at Benson's name, and Peggy couldn't help but smile. Much as she and Joan had an amicable animosity, so did Benson and Campbell. Only their animosity was a bit more overt.

Peggy could roll her eyes at Campbell, and she did. "Why can't you go chase Hershey like a normal adman?"

"Come on, Olson, for me?"

She snapped some papers on her desk, looking annoyed at Campbell's peevish face. In the past, at Cooper Advertising Agency, it would have worked. But not here, at their own firm. 

She didn't even have to say no before he changed topics. "You hear the President's going to talk about French Indochina today?" he drawled.

Peggy sighed in exasperation. "We're never going to go in," she said, a hint of haughtiness in her voice. "We're not going to risk being caught in another war with Japan." 

"I don't know, the French managed to hold it after the war, and besides, it's not against the Japs, it's against the rebel factions."

"Who are probably being backed by the Japs!"

"Peggy!" Joan's voice screeched down the office halls and Campbell at least looked a little chagrined. Peggy couldn't hide her smile. Joan had that effect on everyone. 

The Japs were why Peggy was where she was today. If the US had won the Eastern War, where would she be today? Instead, three quarters of a million US troops were killed and scores more injured, in the invasion of Japan. 

Then had come the ceasefire, and the surrender of US-controlled territories of the Philippines, Hawaii, Guam, and too many other islands too small to name. Korea had stayed firmly under Japan's control, so had much of eastern China, though Beijing stayed free. Japan was a dominant world player, and one day Peggy knew she'd have to figure out how to sell them American products. 

But enough of that, thinking about the wars didn't help sell Lucky Strikes, and she didn't have to sell the Japs Lucky Strikes right now - she had to sell Lucky Strikes to their own executives right now.

Joan looked positively peckish when Peggy strode into the meeting. While Peggy had started off smiling courteously at the Lucky Strike executives, it smile faltered a bit when she saw Benson in the room as well. What was he doing here? 

"The executives wanted a man's opinion on our proposals," Joan said sweetly, and Peggy knew after the meeting, Joan was going to let loose. Women might have made some significant gains, but some things never changed. 

"We're not sure this is the right way to grab the young kids," one of the execs was saying. "We wanted something with a little more … punch. There is no more Old West - we won that. We want strong, tough, men. Men who can avenge the failures of their fathers."

"Except their fathers smoke Lucky Strike." Peggy had spoken first, but Bob had opened his mouth to say something, and was nodding in agreement. "Besides," he continued. "We don't want to sell strength that way. Kids today aren't looking at joining up the military to prove they're real men. What they want is their girlfriends to stop thinking about a career of her own, and to think about properly raising their children. You want to sell Lucky Strikes, we have to sell the idea that a man can be the sole breadwinner while his wife has dinner on the table."

Peggy wanted to throttle Benson. She usually wanted to throttle Benson. He seemed to like very much the idea he had just proposed of women having done their duty and returning to the kitchen. Peggy didn't want to have any of it, but the execs were nodding their heads, murmuring quietly. 

"Alright," a second one finally said. "You get me a classy punchline, and we'll think about it."

Joan was good at this part, and today was no different. "Lucky Strikes," Joan said, a coy smile on her face. She walked around the room, in her 'seduction' mode. "Always have a pack waiting when he comes home."

"How is that going to sell men?"

"We're not selling _men_ ," Joan said, her smile giving way to a knowing grin. "We're selling the whole transformation."

One look at Benson and Peggy knew she had to speak up first, "Put a smile on his face, grab him a pack with your shopping-"

He interrupted, "What's better than fresh laundry and supper on the table? Relaxing the night away with your favorite cigarette-"

She interrupted right back, her voice harsh, "Women, do your duty! Keep him well stocked with Lucky Strike today!"

At the end, Joan sat directly across from the execs, her grin gone, but the hints of a smile remained. "Well, boys? Can we help you take America back to the way life should be?"

Ten minutes later, the new contract was signed.

"I expect you'll be hiring some new help with this," an exec said. "Got a lot of young boys who need the jobs you ladies have kept going for them."

"It's not-" Peggy started, but Joan cut her off with her hand. 

"Bob will oversee the hiring of some new staff," she assured them. "You'll be in safe hands with COHB."

After the men had left, Bob turned to Peggy and Joan, "Shall I get the champaign?" 

Peggy sighed, her shoulders slumping. "It was a bad pitch, Bob. Selling women back in the kitchen? I thought we'd moved past that."

Bob turned on Peggy, his eyes glinting. "Oh, Peggy, you didn't honestly think women were going to keep this status forever did you? You and Joan were both lucky that Cooper was never himself after losing Sterling in the war and susceptible to a take-over. The fact that it took 13 years for anyone to try is the real surprise."

"I didn't fight for my-"

"You didn't fight for anything, Peggy," Bob said dismissively. "There were less men, and jobs that needed to be done. Now, there are more men. I think I'll handle Lucky Strike from here on out; you should keep the PG account-"

"You want me to sell cleaning supplies to women?"

"No, no, Peggy," Joan said, finally entering the argument. "You're going to sell the transformation. Chin up, though. This works, they'll have to keep us on. Men have no idea how to sell submission to women."

Of course Joan would adapt in the blink of the eye. Peggy had been all but certain Joan would push back, but Joan had been at this game for longer than Peggy had. Joan had seen how _eager_ the execs looked, like dogs to a bone, and decided two could play that game. Joan was good at that - it was something Peggy couldn't do nearly as fast or as well as Joan.

For Peggy, she thought again about all the children she passed on her days to work. She'd done more than the women who came before her had. They had worked in the factories during the war, but after it, she had been part of the generation that held the struggling country back together - they had sacrificed food on the table by five, but she had sacrificed the idea of a family. Victory gardens weren't a woman's duty - carrying the torch was. Something she'd done proudly. At the end of the day, America wasn't a world leader, it could barely keep its own economy growing, but it was a land of promise and opportunity. 

She thought again about the children and the Proctor and Gamble account. Every girl deserved to be a mother. The time for sacrifice was over. She could already see the ads dancing in her head. 

Peggy smiled as she headed back to her office. Joan was right. Men couldn't sell this to women. She could. And she'd keep her name on the door, thank you very much. 

The world was on the brink of changing, and Peggy was ready.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Miss Sarah Acacia and Yeats for the beta!


End file.
